


as the light breaks on the ruins

by Umbrella_ella



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, crossposted to tumblr, my first hicsqueak fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 05:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: anon requested: patching up a wound or "I almost lost you" kiss or both?





	as the light breaks on the ruins

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone while watching the Superbowl, so any and all mistakes are my own. Be kind, it’s my first hicsqueak piece. This is an AU, so far as I know. I’m sorry it’s so short.

Pippa is presiding over the end of week feast, the mill of students bustling around the food creating a hum of steady noise, when her potions master is interrupted mid-joke by the histories teacher bending down, whispering urgently into her ear about Cackle’s Academy, something about an incident involving Agatha Cackle. With a wave of her hand, she and Miss Birchwand are behind the closed doors of her study, and Pippa is fastening her cloak around her shoulders.

“What happened?” Pippa fights the urge to grip the young witch’s shoulders tightly and demand that she answer at once; instead, she lets her fingers fumble at the clasp of the cloak as Miss Birchwand haltingly tells a harrowing story.

The school had been settling in for the night, the students snug in their quarters, when the storm had swept through, crackling through the air, great bolts of lightening cracking stone and wood, threatening to crumble the school. Agatha, it seems, had escaped the confines of her portrait, no longer frozen in time, but filled with anger, willing to let the school fall than remain in her sister’s hands. She’d used the remnants of the annihilation spell to wreak havoc and mayhem, and Pippa closes her eyes against the thought of young girls fleeing in naught but their night gowns, forced to leave the safety of their home as it crumbled around them.

“It’s lucky Miss Hardbroom was patrolling, she was able to hold off Agatha long enough for the children to–” Miss Birchwand stops as Pippa lets a gasp slip from her pale lips.

Pippa swallows the fear bubbling up inside of her as she summons her broom, mounting it and kicking off in one swift motion, bidding her deputy to keep things flowing at Pentangle’s.

The cool night air, wind invigorating, turns colder still, and rain begins to pummel Pippa, but she leans forward, urging her magic to work faster, urging her broom model, newer and supposedly faster, to speed through the dark on a path she knows so well.

The wind snaps through her hair, a shiver coursing through her as she lets the thought of Hecate taking on a crazed Agatha Cackle alone, the thought of a battle of magics spur her on.

As she lands, Pippa all but tumbles from her broom, letting it fall to the wet ground as she surveys the damage before her. Only the east wing stands, a ballast among the ruins, the rest of the castle in pieces and splintered wood.

There, off in the distance, she sees a familiar figure. Her heart leaps to her throat, and Pippa clutches at her sides as if it might hold her together as Ada Cackle takes her hand and runs through the ruins, back towards the lone tower on the horizon.

When the pair reach the safety of the door, at one surrounding them, Ada whirls around, her eyes tired and her face troubled.

“Miss Pentangle, you must know that… Hecate tried very hard. I used what magic I had left after I battled my sister to save her, but…” Ada sighs then, and the burn of fear lights a way up to Pippa’s mouth, bubbling out as she lets out a wretched sob. She sees then, that the students, wide-eyed, pale, and shivering in their gowns, are huddled around the nearby fire, staring up at the two witches. Miss Drill is in the corner, quietly speaking to a teary-eyed Miss Bat while Rowan Webb tells hushed stories to those listening.

“How– how is she?” Pippa almost fears the answer.

“Resting. She’s tired, of course, she drained much of her magic, almost all of it, keeping the school upright until the girls had time to run.” Pippa thinks then, of Hecate in her dressing gown, black silk, hair braided, whipping about, strands of hair escaping as she pours all of her magic into protecting the school, the girls, eyes black with rage, and her heart plummets.

“Can I…? I’d like to see her, Miss Cackle.” Pippa tries to sound more firm than she feels, more assured, braver. Hecate has always been the bravest of the two of them.

“Up the stairs. The room on the left.” Ada grants Pippa a halfsmile, one that quivers at it’s edge, and Pippa gives a firm nod of thanks before ascending the staircase.

_Hecate, Hecate, oh, dearest Hecate._

Her thoughts, this mantra of hers, keeps time with her footfalls, boots scraping audibly against stone.

The door swings open as she reaches it, her hand suddenly falling to her side as she sees Hecate.

Her dark hair is unkempt, and the messiest she’s ever seen, and even from this distance, Pippa’s fingers itch to brush her curls from her face.

The slow, steady rise and fall of her chest is the only thing that keeps Pippa’s panic from crawling out from her veins, the only thing keeping her frantic magic in check.

"Hecate,” the name falls from her lips, relieved, even as she releases her cloak from around her shoulders, falling to the floor in a sodden pile. She crosses the room in a second, there at Hecate’s side, her fingers clasping at Hecate’s before she’s even fully materialised, desperate for some sign. The warmth from her fingers is a lifeline, and Pippa nearly cries out with relief.

Hecate stirs, then, the crease in her brow deepening, and Pippa’s fingers hold fast, even as bleary dark eyes open, the dim light of the candle flickering in the dark of the room, casting only a fraction of light on a face that Pippa could never tire of.

“Pippa?” Hecate’s voice is gravelly, her dark eyes widening even as she takes a sharp breath, wincing against it, “the girls–”

“Are safe, thanks to you, Hiccup.” Pippa soothes, running the pad of her thumb over pale knuckles.

“You were quite the hero, so I gather.” Pippa smiles, despite herself.

A shallow breath, a flicker of dark eyes to her own, and Pippa is leaning forward, her lips brushing Hecate’s slightly, before Hecate meets them, pushing herself up on tired elbows, her lips pressing against Pippa’s as though they have always belonged here, in this moment, with Pippa’s hand in hers, and their lips touching in the dark.

“Hecate,” Pippa sighs out, her warm breath sweet on Hecate’s lips, and this time, it’s said with a warmth blooming in her chest and all of the love in the world pressing into her ribs, threatening to spill outward, “rest. I’ll be here in the morning.”

When Hecate wakes and the sunlight breaks through the storm, Pippa is curled next to her, sleeping, Hecate’s hand still in her own.


End file.
